tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68356596272023868412024-02-19T08:28:02.686-08:00Direct from heartAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-86288216037657246422016-05-28T02:28:00.000-07:002016-06-02T23:59:39.550-07:00Aaji aakaase ki ranga laagila<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In not-so-verbatim, the title, which is a song from a movie in <i>Odia </i>language, means that "today, what color did the sky take". The following photos of sky, on different days in a span of 3 months (April-June), bear symbolism to nature's mood. One is an eagle eye view of the blue azure and rest are perched eye views.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-13848827038796944762015-05-03T08:21:00.001-07:002015-05-04T01:25:37.071-07:00A solo-cruise into spirituality and natural beauty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
2 days. Cruising on road for 12 hours in those 2 days on my bike. My trip started from Thane (Mumbai), via Shirdi, Sani Shingnapur, Malshej Ghat and back to Thane.<br />
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May 1st, 2015. 6 AM. Took me about 4 and half hours to reach my 1st destination, Shirdi. Most of that <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq-Yn7a57bD9UGLJYXKBvIXfO5vaEG0nd6ZDzSKmix8vZktVE-rxYT1yvq9x5PuT5dH6dclKRMR6XUUpQBiBU70pRTtgHd0eDpkxMbNv9tx2P9HiQImdZqJJXcib99YHsm7GOLRXX_dM/s1600/20150501_094111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq-Yn7a57bD9UGLJYXKBvIXfO5vaEG0nd6ZDzSKmix8vZktVE-rxYT1yvq9x5PuT5dH6dclKRMR6XUUpQBiBU70pRTtgHd0eDpkxMbNv9tx2P9HiQImdZqJJXcib99YHsm7GOLRXX_dM/s1600/20150501_094111.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>road is good. Most of it is National Highway (NH-3) and about a place which happens to be near Devalali AF station, a right turn from NH-3 takes one to Shirdi. Now, this 2nd leg of the road is cranky for about 25 kms. Still, a rider's religion is to cruise past all these. Pleasantly otherwise, the scenery on both sides of the road is that of good ol' countryside, which invites one with open hands and is downright heart-warming. My energy was constantly replenished by the energy of those walking devotees, in hot-parched road, in bare-feet.<br />
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At Shirdi, the place is so commercialized, that in 1st look it looks devoid of anything called spirituality. Everyone is caring to cater, only, if money in good amounts is brought to the table. However, as they say, if you look enough and deep you may find the unthinkable. Met some kind people who instantly offered me help without any exchange of favor, while I was lost to spot the shop where I parked my bike and luggage at. Out here, some people still care for those who travel miles to visit Shirdi.<br />
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Stayed about 4 hours at Shirdi to visit the temple and attend the <i>archana,</i> and to consume life-saving <i>curd</i> <i>rice. </i>I also happened to find out from locals that it is best to travel and stay in Sani Shingnapur the same day and visit the temple there next day morning (which happens to be a Saturday). Without any further ado, I started for Sani Shinganapur. The road was again smooth in most of its portion; construction, on top of plying of heavy vehicles, delayed carving it to all smoothness. On the way, this time, it was the celebration of mother nature that took my heart. Under the shade of trees, men wearing, mostly, white-colored garments and supported by the ladies of their families were attending to their bullocks to carry out some work; so different from the temperature controlled offices. One can also see aplenty <i>Rashwanti</i> or sugar-cane juice vendors to quash your thirst from the risen mercury.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5lPHmpXM6nOXLdDF6DATuJ3o3ji6wpfrMCH9K-1HaA0Bi2dkLMhydtVsLbU1G5EExdx_C7UQzaklHkZdwrKTgiSbAuKw0Gj8cg9KZGbc40VkyPlCz2MlTrJMwdluaHiTFran7QfqB1M/s1600/20150501_160347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5lPHmpXM6nOXLdDF6DATuJ3o3ji6wpfrMCH9K-1HaA0Bi2dkLMhydtVsLbU1G5EExdx_C7UQzaklHkZdwrKTgiSbAuKw0Gj8cg9KZGbc40VkyPlCz2MlTrJMwdluaHiTFran7QfqB1M/s1600/20150501_160347.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6jwjjy2Pt6HqXw8-CDZe4IDRrtUsJo6YVlGMg3DqCzPAWhKR8xa4u5wZXU25srGj5RLqmPsXTUorcOsHXSrmgQ3yrleVxCHivBSdIQnSPONInYSeaaJH1b8gdgLXXR0Zqfz9pVdIcAg/s1600/20150501_172721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR6jwjjy2Pt6HqXw8-CDZe4IDRrtUsJo6YVlGMg3DqCzPAWhKR8xa4u5wZXU25srGj5RLqmPsXTUorcOsHXSrmgQ3yrleVxCHivBSdIQnSPONInYSeaaJH1b8gdgLXXR0Zqfz9pVdIcAg/s1600/20150501_172721.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a>I reached and found a place to stay for overnight. Very economical with reasonable offerings. It was, however, something else that was different about this place. No doors in most of the houses; the rest had only sliding doors without any locks. Also, not to mention the innocence in conduct of the locals. I felt like I belonged to the place. The locals have a very deep belief in their <i>grama-devta</i>, Lord Sani. Local dialect, typical of that place, sounds so different from the usual <i>marathi,</i> I have heard,<i> </i> in Mumbai or Pune. Sugar-cane seemed like the crop for this season and place, and sugar is the main produce out of it. With the help of the house-keeping person, I rode through the place for having a sumptuous supper of dal and roti. The place is so calm at night, in contrast to the usually noisy cities.<br />
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I fell asleep easily and woke up early to the usual business of a religious place. Devotees from all around the places thronging to visit the deity. I visited the temple; here the deity doesn't stay inside doors. He is out in the open, in the middle of temple's premises. I spent some time, appreciating the soothing calmness of the place. About 9 AM, after having my breakfast of <i>poha</i>, I set off for back to Thane; however, I took a different road, which is directly led from Sani Shingnapur. This route is through <i>Ghodegaon</i>, from where one reaches Ahmednagar bypass that leads to Kalyan, i.e. the outskirts of Mumbai.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7tePzmyTDYCKsXVkC4IcsHNFMBsu0OyztpdKMbpB43knH3Hklatgj2OUAyEkukiaR_Mz__vCc2esDDvlVoKIcBcsCMO1Mt6Ovry_H66_KJuy89uNGnHcROEftAWJvh71r2NpIxLAC9FM/s1600/20150502_131430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7tePzmyTDYCKsXVkC4IcsHNFMBsu0OyztpdKMbpB43knH3Hklatgj2OUAyEkukiaR_Mz__vCc2esDDvlVoKIcBcsCMO1Mt6Ovry_H66_KJuy89uNGnHcROEftAWJvh71r2NpIxLAC9FM/s1600/20150502_131430.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a>This road is comprising of State Highways and village roads. It meets at Kalyan, but not before the long and strenuous journey through the beautiful ghats, most amazingly the <i>Malshej Ghat</i>. A 30 kms ride through this ghat would take you passing by beautiful gorges, through which river <i>Pushpati</i> (as told by locals; name, as found, on internet is <i>Kukdi</i>) flows. A bifurcated road, in opposite direction (to my destination), also leads one to Fort <i>Shivneri</i>, which is the birth place of great <i>Shivaji</i> <i>Maharaj</i>. Also, on this ghat's road, one would see local tribes selling forest's outputs to earn their livelihood; around this time, most of them were selling <i>karwale </i>(more popularly called as <i>jamun</i> or Indian blackberry). The topography on both sides of the road is a beautiful sight for any passer-by.<br />
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As the sun was hot and blazing, the clutch of my bike, which was coming into contact with my skin, gave me an indication of how high the fahrenheit is; everything else was well-shielded against the razing sun. I rode till Kalyan without any long pauses. At Kalyan, about 3:30 in the afternoon, I took a break for lunch, where I relished curd-rice one more time. About 5 in the evening, I started again for the rest of 25 kms, which the city traffic caused me to take about an hour and quarter to cover.<br />
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This trip was a re-affirmation to the fact that countryside of any Indian state that I have seen, most specifically in the deccan plateau (Maharashtra, united AP, Odisha), have the same topography and set-ups; the difference is just in terms of the wearings and food-habits, not to mention the language and dialects. I also happened to have some time, while on this trip, to self-discover and introspect into life from a spiritual stand-point.<br />
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Last, but not the least, I thank to my lovely partner, my Avenger 220, without whom this whole trip wouldn't have been possible; didn't ever give me the usual strains from a long journey in the toughest of all climates.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-51437200482728617092015-04-27T06:00:00.002-07:002016-06-04T05:37:34.460-07:00Do you know me? But, I don’t know myself<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was a usual evening, when some people met at a place. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3KaQ0bt1MKwltR4f_dPceI7iz03JFkHVPYZVqzhR-4KwQa4Y_id-htNwNFRyemO-s91jgxKjcR2oEIJH1MbltR1sZGS7FAHcA6MumpkeTMmLTfGbYNenX89DDJkP1xYmtgHfaFnBVbE/s1600/meeting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3KaQ0bt1MKwltR4f_dPceI7iz03JFkHVPYZVqzhR-4KwQa4Y_id-htNwNFRyemO-s91jgxKjcR2oEIJH1MbltR1sZGS7FAHcA6MumpkeTMmLTfGbYNenX89DDJkP1xYmtgHfaFnBVbE/s1600/meeting.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiq7eeWosx916Q1_a8IjGH8PzQlaYG8lXGEDyj6l7pn_fegTXTWMXSIvXqcVMgmWM7USBSAb2AhaB__PvqKOHEI3cYX0N-c5VAD_7SraaL2hQf1Cgs02-3NsOQH8kl76qHQdv6-HNOW4/s1600/questions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLiq7eeWosx916Q1_a8IjGH8PzQlaYG8lXGEDyj6l7pn_fegTXTWMXSIvXqcVMgmWM7USBSAb2AhaB__PvqKOHEI3cYX0N-c5VAD_7SraaL2hQf1Cgs02-3NsOQH8kl76qHQdv6-HNOW4/s1600/questions.jpg" width="200" /></a>What
intrigues me is that how connects happen in this universe. More importantly,
what keeps alive these connects? It is, absolutely, not in our hands and can’t
be controlled. How does the energy travel through us in the journey of knowing
people? How important are the external factors, which impact such energy? Why
we mortals happen to be in awe of such energy, and also feel defeated by the
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same at other times? Why heart weighs different at different levels of such
energy – does that mean theory of relativity decide the weight of heart? <br />
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Not to complicate this post further, and just to mellow down
the heightened curiosity by the seemingly difficult questions above, I have
penned down this rendezvous in the form a poem. The same can be visited at <a href="http://amarnathmishra.blogspot.in/2015/04/birds-of-feather-flock-together.html"><i><b><span style="color: blue;">http://amarnathmishra.blogspot.in/2015/04/birds-of-feather-flock-together.html</span></b></i></a></div>
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Awaiting your comments on both.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-44170419952947208652015-04-17T11:42:00.003-07:002015-04-17T11:42:56.982-07:00Some bygones die hard - Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The noises were getting louder now. <i>Could it be the end?</i>, was what Manish wondering.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOf5ruCCCXSgY3DKXRTq5-uavrGl1pkHkkKECrsae8X0xq0b8OoU0ywD4YrJIWF2GyuwKrQzNI4uRW9NGaM74DdMFo421UKYlG1g_hPaNJkt3FsgwJZDSGIwCzIbBcnFBHCe6HM6OnjI0/s1600/1st+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOf5ruCCCXSgY3DKXRTq5-uavrGl1pkHkkKECrsae8X0xq0b8OoU0ywD4YrJIWF2GyuwKrQzNI4uRW9NGaM74DdMFo421UKYlG1g_hPaNJkt3FsgwJZDSGIwCzIbBcnFBHCe6HM6OnjI0/s1600/1st+scene.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRU3x0J17wzEfkGyNfVlywHQgJTOho6ghbbMvnJeJHMIE7jJNFZQlUPWyBJiGucHRikNYZ1rgR1WUDlF_szCUDsV_8WzeXImUQu_W0lHE17koZveyE3t4PDUluIytJyxd0XEqHuJBeOc/s1600/missing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRU3x0J17wzEfkGyNfVlywHQgJTOho6ghbbMvnJeJHMIE7jJNFZQlUPWyBJiGucHRikNYZ1rgR1WUDlF_szCUDsV_8WzeXImUQu_W0lHE17koZveyE3t4PDUluIytJyxd0XEqHuJBeOc/s1600/missing.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1n6Y4H3BOiDmPw2op8rpIuFaaRpZIsUMXRgE9GmZi_JHK4Va4ARFEj8nJjhWZnEAMqZoLKXQkR4Dwe0lIRaebvJvHr2H25AW0McxDeHH9YRi7hi0KoElTkCaeauGmHuUp8lKsuK8-Gg/s1600/hit+and+run.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1n6Y4H3BOiDmPw2op8rpIuFaaRpZIsUMXRgE9GmZi_JHK4Va4ARFEj8nJjhWZnEAMqZoLKXQkR4Dwe0lIRaebvJvHr2H25AW0McxDeHH9YRi7hi0KoElTkCaeauGmHuUp8lKsuK8-Gg/s1600/hit+and+run.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a><b>Jayant </b>was the last among the fighting slum dwellers to have met a tragic end, in a road accident. Yes, it was labelled as an accident only. Some went missing, and their files followed the suit too. <br />
When a person died, he was accompanied by the entire family; so, no one were left to file an FIR also. Manish had to take back the case against the builder as no protestants were left; even the charity group, he was supporting along with his wife, insisted to take the case back - they never wanted harm to their reputation and lives.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqqran3hpH55nQiREek0jAiR0DrV8cqw5rv4sdAUZiP5MHk8TUY8YEyZcaKfDgsMA5MjldKcL1An6roAfQLVo0EYQahkYbxCmwkzV3nIpBgcnlsGx1Tf9DRXzDYsj7qk6snJL_3ApIMv0/s1600/inform+police.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqqran3hpH55nQiREek0jAiR0DrV8cqw5rv4sdAUZiP5MHk8TUY8YEyZcaKfDgsMA5MjldKcL1An6roAfQLVo0EYQahkYbxCmwkzV3nIpBgcnlsGx1Tf9DRXzDYsj7qk6snJL_3ApIMv0/s1600/inform+police.jpg" height="147" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrDqsSzSCv7ddu4wtSwhat5be51d-t9cA0xR2SVdFVBmjBggxf0qCceM0ME0IiHE_LB6Uw-sM1xHCPcplHd5sxaSusVLw-gN27a_bFrjhBNAwxGYnGL1kVtVz9VBGA6r401TTka2XIAo/s1600/ransom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrDqsSzSCv7ddu4wtSwhat5be51d-t9cA0xR2SVdFVBmjBggxf0qCceM0ME0IiHE_LB6Uw-sM1xHCPcplHd5sxaSusVLw-gN27a_bFrjhBNAwxGYnGL1kVtVz9VBGA6r401TTka2XIAo/s1600/ransom.jpg" /></a>Manish was not be spared either. Raghu had him pay ransom, by threatening against his and family's life; but Raghu was also coming increasingly under the scanner of narcotics department of the crime branch. Manish couldn't see a better way to escape Raghu's constant extortion threats and slipped a tip to the authority, which led to the ambush at Raghu's safe haven.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Lr3DhpG6ur_81KHDmUL1-TsUGWBgB-POIjZo0nrSem54J3JRcxYbP7Rg09iJ7ySr4ivjVndQnpMMQKV9FSyxDybZf9IU3MQKjSOo8MXBSuF3SNTUFJKfx4gtyt0iVmzdMTvWiBD8Pdw/s1600/gun+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Lr3DhpG6ur_81KHDmUL1-TsUGWBgB-POIjZo0nrSem54J3JRcxYbP7Rg09iJ7ySr4ivjVndQnpMMQKV9FSyxDybZf9IU3MQKjSOo8MXBSuF3SNTUFJKfx4gtyt0iVmzdMTvWiBD8Pdw/s1600/gun+down.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoQo3Lu5ugpTRLcxdiKMo94iS8MBuwGrsfjZTMyil3a2U_j2_IgyPkStJ3tAVdUi7RGrrF1lmM_NCHpcKCrDjrpml92sA2MYy_eEgB8RVOvwdxVTdLCng_HFJOnC8tDAtgwMv5Hdn0cQ/s1600/extortion+calls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoQo3Lu5ugpTRLcxdiKMo94iS8MBuwGrsfjZTMyil3a2U_j2_IgyPkStJ3tAVdUi7RGrrF1lmM_NCHpcKCrDjrpml92sA2MYy_eEgB8RVOvwdxVTdLCng_HFJOnC8tDAtgwMv5Hdn0cQ/s1600/extortion+calls.jpg" /></a>Now, who is calling Manish for more extortion money? And from the same number! It was getting dark, but his adrenaline levels had gone past his fear of the dreaded place, that once used to be <br />
Raghu's den. What can hurt him more than wrenching sounds of those calls, overwhelming his ability to think?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURm5ZxPgeUD3YTQmlqmfQWlOUZ4QHDc6E650EoXvWALuiiFbYcx4yQzRqidxL03AAuL__jdGRyKEqKVESiHV7RNn4yc3sjNQS8AZpOSYW4wy9usRCXWlwOWexwdi2lVedqXBfCZwbiw8/s1600/heard+from+unknown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURm5ZxPgeUD3YTQmlqmfQWlOUZ4QHDc6E650EoXvWALuiiFbYcx4yQzRqidxL03AAuL__jdGRyKEqKVESiHV7RNn4yc3sjNQS8AZpOSYW4wy9usRCXWlwOWexwdi2lVedqXBfCZwbiw8/s1600/heard+from+unknown.jpg" height="167" width="200" /></a><i>So, you came?</i>, Manish was startled, hearing a similar voice behind the silhouette of a door near his old residence. <i>Raghu, is that you? How can it be? I heard you were dead.</i> Eerie silence followed for a whole minute, while Manish thought he was hallucinating. <i>Freeze, you chicken! Or, I will roast you like one. Yes, I am alive. Does that sorrow you? What brings you here, old buddy, huh? </i>Manish couldn't believe his luck. He had thought his days of woe are over. <i>I couldn't pay more to your demands. I am done with it. Do whatever you want to do!</i> Finally, Manish could conjure up strength to say that.<br />
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<i>Ok! Here is a pact. Never mention to anyone about our rendezvous today, ever! Not even your wife. Now, go back to your world and never return to this place.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1TTF-60Fs_6VbDTHfg0Nz6pVitiKm5zlNx2Y4d9yKAhVaQEzR6SPpTisFngA3_z6PIDle7XHqu_-yv6_8d-aidyKgpHdcjVry5_93a9RTi61lH5GKIpu2aTex6fMRb0Ni-yel1wJ2dR8/s1600/hallucination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1TTF-60Fs_6VbDTHfg0Nz6pVitiKm5zlNx2Y4d9yKAhVaQEzR6SPpTisFngA3_z6PIDle7XHqu_-yv6_8d-aidyKgpHdcjVry5_93a9RTi61lH5GKIpu2aTex6fMRb0Ni-yel1wJ2dR8/s1600/hallucination.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a><i><br /></i><br />
Manish was pacing back, still thinking that it was all a hallucination.<br />
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<i>You were right about him, <b>Dhruv</b>.</i> Investigating officer <b>Kailash </b>said to his partner. <i>It was brilliant of you to record Raghu's statement, before his death, and use it to confirm your belief. </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAlYqFOMo4EqGwVBRAngUUsrtOco8scEFs5G1ypGLcWkDIjBD4SvOCE0DLp7lMcfPLcbZ885QTGvDXZYyyf0SYnymnbEWiDUXaAtYjmix0OfwAOiONjbwNt_uQ9CtmIDb2RQT3ZxAN3s/s1600/last+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAlYqFOMo4EqGwVBRAngUUsrtOco8scEFs5G1ypGLcWkDIjBD4SvOCE0DLp7lMcfPLcbZ885QTGvDXZYyyf0SYnymnbEWiDUXaAtYjmix0OfwAOiONjbwNt_uQ9CtmIDb2RQT3ZxAN3s/s1600/last+scene.jpg" height="152" width="200" /></a></div>
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Some bygones, die hard.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-84267900841256044302015-04-16T10:00:00.001-07:002015-04-16T10:00:43.591-07:00Some bygones die hard - Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lot of noises in the head!!!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SHsfiPViauEdqk7luA3_Ql6ZtKmILP_RxlEXDrB-D6A5xFr2IuLhW5z1rZAJf7FlD63ouuV0yqWAmSFV4S8IeHkwUEbcEe77uncr1sQtGJ0VyWsqISkf9TpoS5bglTMvmalh9dB5pj8/s1600/control+fate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SHsfiPViauEdqk7luA3_Ql6ZtKmILP_RxlEXDrB-D6A5xFr2IuLhW5z1rZAJf7FlD63ouuV0yqWAmSFV4S8IeHkwUEbcEe77uncr1sQtGJ0VyWsqISkf9TpoS5bglTMvmalh9dB5pj8/s1600/control+fate.jpg" /></a>What was happening to <b>Manish</b>? He could not hold it down since he learnt about it. An evil pharaoh was ruling on his fate, it seemed. He just had managed to escape from his most dreaded enemy, <b>Raghu</b>, the local mafia leader and his childhood buddy. <b>Raghu </b>was gunned down during a police raid at his notorious gang's hideout. It just had felt like the end of 100 years of agony. Life was still unforgiving.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqB-aLFgsPZLachUFbo43Z0X4XPjcPgmWrzzQeualelcn44RWHxjt7v30y8xO9HyL8zjxQTwcxLalkGUJRhN8onh3ujgJ1bsCcRLYQwk3nq5k5JP_gFnvSwdzbAbiWhrhsUV7Dno_DEp8/s1600/gun+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqB-aLFgsPZLachUFbo43Z0X4XPjcPgmWrzzQeualelcn44RWHxjt7v30y8xO9HyL8zjxQTwcxLalkGUJRhN8onh3ujgJ1bsCcRLYQwk3nq5k5JP_gFnvSwdzbAbiWhrhsUV7Dno_DEp8/s1600/gun+down.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a><br />
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How his lifeline kept on running short against his life's traumas? He went back to his old neighbourhood to find some clues.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZWxpc3ixG4B95KIkUJQG8N9oQtcYIElG5oBsz8PQ0ePPoaj9XaRhrTZ4R-2WUmy-Y9c6rGYBf6_fB_TFn1JTUB2Nsyoj5ap1QnO6u8YNkHDECKYSqvUcP_BXRQ89bMH3ZexNEezWKOk/s1600/old+slum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZWxpc3ixG4B95KIkUJQG8N9oQtcYIElG5oBsz8PQ0ePPoaj9XaRhrTZ4R-2WUmy-Y9c6rGYBf6_fB_TFn1JTUB2Nsyoj5ap1QnO6u8YNkHDECKYSqvUcP_BXRQ89bMH3ZexNEezWKOk/s1600/old+slum.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IRUYg4bzc1upMHdUa_QGoYAFPWEeCp01iGVNURm0DRryQh-5o0pdsCZ5lVYm3gOffeVBXEIrkjwWuWswBTsgWYNjY9SrpbV5CQqbEH8sNr2lj6mcXq6hMnj9ASv3gaC_DmDX4RzhC0s/s1600/mumbai-slums-india.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0IRUYg4bzc1upMHdUa_QGoYAFPWEeCp01iGVNURm0DRryQh-5o0pdsCZ5lVYm3gOffeVBXEIrkjwWuWswBTsgWYNjY9SrpbV5CQqbEH8sNr2lj6mcXq6hMnj9ASv3gaC_DmDX4RzhC0s/s1600/mumbai-slums-india.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a>In the vicinity of dockyard, a dilapidated slum was encroaching the walkway between the high-rises and the sea. It has been long in the radar of property builders and affluent classes, who bee-hived the tall residential buildings. To them, the slum always reminded of gutters. To an extent, it was right. Most of the shanties were not liveable and would house the pleasure-acts of mafia's army in the dark. They were so murky and filled with filth, that nobody from the neighbouring quarters would like to visit them without a suicidal mind; especially during dark hours. It was this very slum where Manish and Raghu spent their childhood, which doesn't house families anymore, but the satans of the city.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rXqTkKBiOr-6K-S-WsE3XUY__UVsQMHaunJ-LpgRRgOsYI_4_3f8QSYlNgKGOD_Z3j32wTbEqR5rislo-FYtwnCM_wTZrkL75KKMDBIRvNddN5Qoc7s4SwKf6Nj2WUSS0kPYYKP6VrE/s1600/2+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-rXqTkKBiOr-6K-S-WsE3XUY__UVsQMHaunJ-LpgRRgOsYI_4_3f8QSYlNgKGOD_Z3j32wTbEqR5rislo-FYtwnCM_wTZrkL75KKMDBIRvNddN5Qoc7s4SwKf6Nj2WUSS0kPYYKP6VrE/s1600/2+kids.jpg" height="129" width="200" /></a><br />
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Manish and Raghu, 2 orphans and raised by a mafia-lord, <b>Seth</b>, had seen it all before one of them decided to not enter this world of evil. Manish, always wanted to lead a life like a <i>babu </i>and was inclined very early in his life towards books and the intellect class. Seth, would see in him as someone who he couldn't become and sent him to school. Seth sent Raghu to school too, though Raghu, diametrically opposite, was a heartless brat and would never settle for anything below his expectations - may be the reason behind being ousted from his school for writing outrageously abusing remarks on his teacher in her subject's paper. He decided to never go back to a place that sobers one down.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAWFunCjaSxZjS-mmGAN3VtTYfCx4gYyShR9FUHN8pD_X0sVmJmmfQ0isFLXbC0ppn0bJUglWVid3xFI9J7AG6VaxYg_OQ2AwrCuRcDrjcFuRlKP_8S59dlLu-vl1SXKAzST8OojPxxM/s1600/Seth+killed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAWFunCjaSxZjS-mmGAN3VtTYfCx4gYyShR9FUHN8pD_X0sVmJmmfQ0isFLXbC0ppn0bJUglWVid3xFI9J7AG6VaxYg_OQ2AwrCuRcDrjcFuRlKP_8S59dlLu-vl1SXKAzST8OojPxxM/s1600/Seth+killed.jpg" height="138" width="200" /></a></div>
They must be around same age, and it must be about a decade and a half, when Seth got killed in an all gang-war. Manish was adopted by the generous board of the very school he was studying at; Manish, being a a brute animal from inside, could never find any adopting suitors and continued his path to mafia-dom. Manish went on to become a lawyer, a very successful one. He was never ever to lose a case; but, sometimes, some stigmata of the past never fade easily.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1BJywTikH33Aq06wa4fjVXsyy2qs7jFCKU7dXLSzQnGsjFYZxRH9yQbTOA_J98OSiI_yoIM_A9OAOf5A6w_6UliAy3g377ED_j9lwxnVTR1uFbMZ-OTr6YxgYjOJzFENm84YngnptFs/s1600/from+past.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1BJywTikH33Aq06wa4fjVXsyy2qs7jFCKU7dXLSzQnGsjFYZxRH9yQbTOA_J98OSiI_yoIM_A9OAOf5A6w_6UliAy3g377ED_j9lwxnVTR1uFbMZ-OTr6YxgYjOJzFENm84YngnptFs/s1600/from+past.jpg" height="116" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAn30cA0bra7_DS2J2Yq2V2l1Mlu3JAUeBOHKetU5ap1b7ao80AmZxmf-siBR2unxsHJXu7XB1i7gq4190XCB14NK2czxoU2PafmRTBbDpShzRdZlbqGGcfu9JhV30uIWPDD5YIFrBcns/s1600/generous+goon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAn30cA0bra7_DS2J2Yq2V2l1Mlu3JAUeBOHKetU5ap1b7ao80AmZxmf-siBR2unxsHJXu7XB1i7gq4190XCB14NK2czxoU2PafmRTBbDpShzRdZlbqGGcfu9JhV30uIWPDD5YIFrBcns/s1600/generous+goon.jpg" height="189" width="200" /></a>Manish' wife was a big socialite and supported a charity group. This would pull Manish into taking many cases and put him into <i>Messaih </i>kind of a fame. Manish always remembered the noble side of Seth and how it helped him grow popular among his aides. That would fillip Manish into so <br />
many generous acts. One such case he took was a rehabilitation case for a group of dwellers, who were the last lineage of good <i>Samaritans </i>that ever stayed in that old slum's locality.<br />
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Raghu, the heir-apparent of Seth, had been working out of the broken dockyard area for his new <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0C28ZAtC2zxh18LCushM9UwM9phyphenhyphengR6ydmBGyPSq9YmccSgK0wb4UZsek-hZY0mOPU3F04ThLCTTO5zaKVB_1lq2fVgJlUVfTb1zIIo_JBGO-FyjwuzRYaGBH4-o3qnb5D2aR31xaB0/s1600/drug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0C28ZAtC2zxh18LCushM9UwM9phyphenhyphengR6ydmBGyPSq9YmccSgK0wb4UZsek-hZY0mOPU3F04ThLCTTO5zaKVB_1lq2fVgJlUVfTb1zIIo_JBGO-FyjwuzRYaGBH4-o3qnb5D2aR31xaB0/s1600/drug.jpg" height="109" width="200" /></a></div>
interest - drugs. He wouldn't let the place go out of his clutches and would not even part with a fair settlement with those poor dwellers. Behind the cover of a property dealer, he was fighting the case against Manish; directly, he was wiping out them, one after another.<br />
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...to be continued</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-67899277260118359642015-04-13T11:08:00.000-07:002015-04-13T11:11:10.695-07:00My thoughts, my words...Our thoughts, our words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH20E-NkWxWdQlgzeguB3hNI9CEFei5jGIT-w6w8isnUbk2Uk_0vvAsi1G7hfI-VC92ybqfrUAUHxvLvqVWevvt1MEbzymALU6NHTXs_X9GbyYA7H2cBHMfJoZSs7hTL1JfkP9GHrUMZs/s1600/trailer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH20E-NkWxWdQlgzeguB3hNI9CEFei5jGIT-w6w8isnUbk2Uk_0vvAsi1G7hfI-VC92ybqfrUAUHxvLvqVWevvt1MEbzymALU6NHTXs_X9GbyYA7H2cBHMfJoZSs7hTL1JfkP9GHrUMZs/s1600/trailer1.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLbK9X_Lw7o650hfcBXRwfF_YexI_yImBokIHjlgekch1hHRfkFveDHAncyRABFcAfY_FBc-KjRivbDHl8hny80U8U9I9arhtfSmjPvUw_xv864D2nWi1ZvhtdCLpVYcQk2Tcb-dg9LU/s1600/trailer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLbK9X_Lw7o650hfcBXRwfF_YexI_yImBokIHjlgekch1hHRfkFveDHAncyRABFcAfY_FBc-KjRivbDHl8hny80U8U9I9arhtfSmjPvUw_xv864D2nWi1ZvhtdCLpVYcQk2Tcb-dg9LU/s1600/trailer.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>Yikes! I saw a trailer with some transporter’s name (say
Kailash) succeeded by <i>Road-li-ness</i>
(breaking the word like this is important as I read it like this). Upon a bit
careful observation, I saw the correct version which was the usual <i>Roadlines</i>. Now, I believe, </div>
neologism is
part personal too, like many other things in life. Let’s see if it really is. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNEGPn-VZtYJ4ATAKpK9ayZTS-uIAk1Xa0govml1jTlGuv6Qwny_pDbvxg31e_yoGz_UDQra2c3XQxRVLMQdj85KyjWZ_uMbppzNCP8bqXmswaLpMsa_uUw3rVfOcGIloLVMntPHore0/s1600/external+effect+on+mind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisNEGPn-VZtYJ4ATAKpK9ayZTS-uIAk1Xa0govml1jTlGuv6Qwny_pDbvxg31e_yoGz_UDQra2c3XQxRVLMQdj85KyjWZ_uMbppzNCP8bqXmswaLpMsa_uUw3rVfOcGIloLVMntPHore0/s1600/external+effect+on+mind.jpg" height="149" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNsDYma8NxTuzvn3OBcAoI7eW4PQQnz_Kka6zrUqR80xhQ7YraR81Stbq_pRt0OYimgxlheazfj72zdTqpmPmldUCk9w0c-BLSdEvoEw3d-Jjkgf7XIJahPNC8QIMwNi7wicw341SSL4/s1600/instinct.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNsDYma8NxTuzvn3OBcAoI7eW4PQQnz_Kka6zrUqR80xhQ7YraR81Stbq_pRt0OYimgxlheazfj72zdTqpmPmldUCk9w0c-BLSdEvoEw3d-Jjkgf7XIJahPNC8QIMwNi7wicw341SSL4/s1600/instinct.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a>Starting with this very example. To me, it went like “Kailash
Roadliness”, which meant to my logical mind as something similar to <i>friendliness to road</i>, while reading it written
on a road transporter’s trailer. As my mind wasn't exposed to an external
influence (even the 2<sup>nd</sup>, and longer, observation on the word <i>Roadline </i>hadn't materialized) at that moment, but a gut
feeling of existence of such word (<i>Roadliness</i>),
I definitely put the origin of this word as personal.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC1oH_rIxA7kU-gbAF0BwpilvBjpsrXqO4CehEUFrX_MZKuobuTVotyMFTxAcL_68Ptw39F6J7EEoMsyoObgFVB-TWEliy0JGhWMX5RvjOkCAzXA-IMAtbMzcm6FsSk7eEETQp0ukATE/s1600/public+private.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC1oH_rIxA7kU-gbAF0BwpilvBjpsrXqO4CehEUFrX_MZKuobuTVotyMFTxAcL_68Ptw39F6J7EEoMsyoObgFVB-TWEliy0JGhWMX5RvjOkCAzXA-IMAtbMzcm6FsSk7eEETQp0ukATE/s1600/public+private.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>I am sure there would go a lot of non-personal thoughts
while giving birth a term, more essentially some of those basic terms, like <i>Road</i> per say. It is derived from a long
usage of its ancient form in old languages like Latin, archaic Greek and even
Sanskrit. Still, anyone following the World politics and Lexicology,
hand-in-hand or separately, would not forget how one of the past governors of
US riled up controversy by coining a term called <i>refudiate</i> (this, off course, seems like a mix-up, which was later
hushed down by her by indicating it as her creation). Doesn't that sound a creation
from her personal belief of existence of such a word, much before the same was
deleted from her social network (only to be re-written later, a bit brashly,
due to external voices)?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzRcUo55mthxhShfCs-eQj_mwp8ixdVQIppypuPaWCY4qHLCg-9fQgeRWfOTimgmalJfaMsYIObr1Ue_MigtMFPE74D4kULO1p7Df_3fJPsUYBcNZXDPlnP3soM6yvUTXASxsyvz-V5g/s1600/mosses+masses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHzRcUo55mthxhShfCs-eQj_mwp8ixdVQIppypuPaWCY4qHLCg-9fQgeRWfOTimgmalJfaMsYIObr1Ue_MigtMFPE74D4kULO1p7Df_3fJPsUYBcNZXDPlnP3soM6yvUTXASxsyvz-V5g/s1600/mosses+masses.jpg" height="200" width="175" /></a>I am no pundit in Etymology (origin of words), but if the creation
of word <i>masses</i> had befallen on me, as
an observer of history, I would have given the credit of its origin to <i>Moses</i> (the Jewish Messiah), who was able
to move a lot of people. If you ask me, I would still believe that way, just
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because of my personal belief. Similarly, the actual creator of this word must
have his/her personal reasons too to link with its real origin. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MbsdpWF8p7R4R5ycEYNonSQWIZvJ2_YYDQAoI1qyWOXPhX4MK8a6tCcToXsM-uTtlvMTkFiej3NQKda66hJacjGL8AnYGQZnDcqRT-lGRZJQDfFjftdKvBhx8tEOZ5rfNPtQvc-3qZw/s1600/SumTotal-Extended-Enterprise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MbsdpWF8p7R4R5ycEYNonSQWIZvJ2_YYDQAoI1qyWOXPhX4MK8a6tCcToXsM-uTtlvMTkFiej3NQKda66hJacjGL8AnYGQZnDcqRT-lGRZJQDfFjftdKvBhx8tEOZ5rfNPtQvc-3qZw/s1600/SumTotal-Extended-Enterprise.jpg" height="192" width="200" /></a>Now, personal reasons could also be derived from experience,
rather than quick instinctive reactions. That experience could be similar for
many individuals, either from the same era or from different. Due to constant buzz
of this harmonious experience over a substantial time, it is taken as a common</div>
belief – which should explain the etymology of words like <i>Road</i>.<br />
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Again, if you ask me, I would have my own personal reasons in deriving a word called <i>Road</i>. Something looking like a <i>rod, </i>but a lot more extended, hence the stretching effect in its </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IS8puQzKkgQNwdFwCR73Ck_PsIVHVvEttk3oYwcArSpaElcdJ08LU-68qcuC69Mx2Yye5ZM0fmlBmHXPwV0_eabkEuOaBgMb5vRPT_JTB3vCctlrQq-fkeiFk3GEVZFcmkcGRUWI3L4/s1600/rod+on+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3IS8puQzKkgQNwdFwCR73Ck_PsIVHVvEttk3oYwcArSpaElcdJ08LU-68qcuC69Mx2Yye5ZM0fmlBmHXPwV0_eabkEuOaBgMb5vRPT_JTB3vCctlrQq-fkeiFk3GEVZFcmkcGRUWI3L4/s1600/rod+on+road.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>pronunciation.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-24114646023998045182015-04-12T03:55:00.002-07:002015-04-12T04:01:04.898-07:00Once deceived, twice shy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How cool it feels when you exchange those first "hello(s)"s and "hi(s)".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_XargEu98cvCHrTeXg2tukr6TbiFxywc6aGCkzj867rGtj9dyGrEtG07upY6GXJvZ2857PC1JQXB5r81YEuvvZ5TRoiZUm0iGVbU2-R_HRwxRVzi4JjPVEbcMWtIAkU3V8u91-kogFM/s1600/looks_can_be_deceiving_by_sniperstalker-d6syt1o.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_XargEu98cvCHrTeXg2tukr6TbiFxywc6aGCkzj867rGtj9dyGrEtG07upY6GXJvZ2857PC1JQXB5r81YEuvvZ5TRoiZUm0iGVbU2-R_HRwxRVzi4JjPVEbcMWtIAkU3V8u91-kogFM/s1600/looks_can_be_deceiving_by_sniperstalker-d6syt1o.png" height="166" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlsn3K8F3A0gdgFpB7G9rUSboeHPdI_5Vvi9b90AfWI9wJH8o8hOjc3JiEeKOqWVD5-SREFxXAvjqCqbtU3ZjxoRKuOHroqilg8bnxaSuHpFD-OleHFF46qGb5MEJz0UAUgIPo70bOqs/s1600/unknown+james+bond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlsn3K8F3A0gdgFpB7G9rUSboeHPdI_5Vvi9b90AfWI9wJH8o8hOjc3JiEeKOqWVD5-SREFxXAvjqCqbtU3ZjxoRKuOHroqilg8bnxaSuHpFD-OleHFF46qGb5MEJz0UAUgIPo70bOqs/s1600/unknown+james+bond.jpg" height="124" width="200" /></a>Daniel was at a city's famous pub, leisurely sipping his <i>Martini </i>and giving intermittent glances at the lady in red, who was sitting across him at the other end of the lounge. He almost forgot to keep his <br />
guards on, when suddenly she threw a strange stare back at him. A <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Za9OH0jIPZM5SAjmB-VKSKeAE3bCyUtzZ4HLILI4cRzAsi7d4EfZb9XeTUZY-9FjNa81W0FwjjvJx19kWCOCLx3NKYP6MfsW3qs2XKE3EY62FV4x4JrwjgAkKPAMyuYkEpPRuaH0_AI/s1600/lady+in+red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Za9OH0jIPZM5SAjmB-VKSKeAE3bCyUtzZ4HLILI4cRzAsi7d4EfZb9XeTUZY-9FjNa81W0FwjjvJx19kWCOCLx3NKYP6MfsW3qs2XKE3EY62FV4x4JrwjgAkKPAMyuYkEpPRuaH0_AI/s1600/lady+in+red.jpg" height="200" width="141" /></a>bit embarrassed, Daniel continued sipping his drink, resolving to never peek her for the rest of the evening. He almost shuddered, when he heard a female voice saying "hello".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFwKJYjcf7md3w54PU9rF_VB-viMPqqUV2hlrsuHrCzGJuVnULfI3R-gGp-lxIoJxFbnaJ31ov_L2y3WdhJzduAOnXKN0iIabybA6De-rUVZSg4i579GOxqbzbSEiocSRqZdt-h8QoAM/s1600/winking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFwKJYjcf7md3w54PU9rF_VB-viMPqqUV2hlrsuHrCzGJuVnULfI3R-gGp-lxIoJxFbnaJ31ov_L2y3WdhJzduAOnXKN0iIabybA6De-rUVZSg4i579GOxqbzbSEiocSRqZdt-h8QoAM/s1600/winking.jpg" /></a>Nita, lady in red, was an absolute stunner. <i>Can you please help me? I am waiting for my estranged husband, and I need to show him that's it all over. Do you understand me? </i>Daniel was clueless on what his next reaction be, and he just nodded hysterically. Quarter hour into some pleasantries, a guy in his mid 30s arrives and Nita issues a quick wink at Daniel. <i>This is my friend Daniel, and he's Ricky. Daniel and I were in college together. </i>At this moment, Nita locks her one arm around Daniel's back, which throws Ricky into a dizzy stance.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD2d_xG8RT3orlcU9luINHwZvezncIe25SPo1MrRD4sheLPlkYxIcrk60sRs2leZgvZznhPLc3xoNAVBiI8GkafbzyQ1qIxMQYM99j1NI_A_IkgYX-_NnyFcBCPjrpmR_Chd3P98Fvjo/s1600/dizzied+husband.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqD2d_xG8RT3orlcU9luINHwZvezncIe25SPo1MrRD4sheLPlkYxIcrk60sRs2leZgvZznhPLc3xoNAVBiI8GkafbzyQ1qIxMQYM99j1NI_A_IkgYX-_NnyFcBCPjrpmR_Chd3P98Fvjo/s1600/dizzied+husband.jpg" height="120" width="200" /></a><i>Why didn't you tell me, ever before, about him? All this while, I kept thinking that you loved me. Why did you marry me in the first place?</i>...quizzed a still dizzied Ricky, who was now grimacing. <i>I am sorry</i> is what Nita could say before Ricky disappeared before them.<br />
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Daniel, still bedazzled by Nita's beauty, could not make much about what just happened. A relaxed Nita turned to him and said - <i>That went all right. Anyways, it was nice meeting you...errr...Daniel. Thanks for the help</i>. It was then, when Daniel was hit by the crux of this whole episode - that he just was used as a pawn to settle one's quest for something; that he should be more careful while dealing with charming people. <i>Who knows what was going on between these 2.</i> He could have just averted this odd situation in the first place by refusing Nita. For sure, looks can be deceiving at times. Daniel,<br />
the future James Bond, just had learnt an important lesson.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalOKORmAvTUfTg1ez6yqedD3z5ZpZ4Q5JulgGlQ1lhvfjfQMv7bmokeKOxu58B_2vM9NNoRbOgJ921ol2CeID7tfPI-gR6z3PHSmPFMTEzJny2tc0YEvafV2hvgs6tYDuYZhhhLEdqhI/s1600/james+bond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalOKORmAvTUfTg1ez6yqedD3z5ZpZ4Q5JulgGlQ1lhvfjfQMv7bmokeKOxu58B_2vM9NNoRbOgJ921ol2CeID7tfPI-gR6z3PHSmPFMTEzJny2tc0YEvafV2hvgs6tYDuYZhhhLEdqhI/s1600/james+bond.jpg" height="124" width="200" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-46582555532770669962015-04-09T04:11:00.000-07:002015-04-09T04:11:14.125-07:00Story of an awakening<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
5:35 AM...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgj_bkVA5AV2k9GdumhkJ9iBkzEfIZNXtdmdwZL8DPoxpnEq7nA2ZxFqEPS2Q245yHCbq9vXVIarqbxTdXqmSBptmke1PJEteD9dgoUpWvi2ddISflTpr2oawLYhKjAS_0Edeqs-Ga28/s1600/sleeping+hard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgj_bkVA5AV2k9GdumhkJ9iBkzEfIZNXtdmdwZL8DPoxpnEq7nA2ZxFqEPS2Q245yHCbq9vXVIarqbxTdXqmSBptmke1PJEteD9dgoUpWvi2ddISflTpr2oawLYhKjAS_0Edeqs-Ga28/s1600/sleeping+hard.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQykdlJnFj68ICO5Fyjx03JoKNILv1g9r9HEKj8_1I7SKEMxMbjLvr2opmF1vv9RWPhQht7n8a2XmthhG_8_R9npADXYEFrzwkISTdVYjYjDdUu5hzDCglPyPfQNVqGcnbipCJ7ORgvQ/s1600/sedation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQykdlJnFj68ICO5Fyjx03JoKNILv1g9r9HEKj8_1I7SKEMxMbjLvr2opmF1vv9RWPhQht7n8a2XmthhG_8_R9npADXYEFrzwkISTdVYjYjDdUu5hzDCglPyPfQNVqGcnbipCJ7ORgvQ/s1600/sedation.jpg" height="178" width="200" /></a>Every iota of mind is playing with my existence, by injecting a sedative serum. From a distant corner of my valley of senses, a squeaking voice is stroking my wild passion to get up and fight this heavy<br />
sedation. This untamed passion was blinking to life and had a heavy odds of sinking under the overdose of confusing effects of mind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjc8-kXMRLlnxrgBav_43vSrPs7rStAE3nDAIJ4_jUqvNBehb48mRkss5UVYi377DVCUoCnJCfxAag9SsKElEASmyVCR4bEZVCg26f6YWQLum2CQaoEA7lZdm3dXX487SJrjYznaMUT28/s1600/confused+state.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjc8-kXMRLlnxrgBav_43vSrPs7rStAE3nDAIJ4_jUqvNBehb48mRkss5UVYi377DVCUoCnJCfxAag9SsKElEASmyVCR4bEZVCg26f6YWQLum2CQaoEA7lZdm3dXX487SJrjYznaMUT28/s1600/confused+state.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcoGVs9AW-nuOO6KWJaa4ROmf90Gy9t4sJKilKmxtISOK_b7qBs3CSVSC0plNDHgFHK_PVcacsgwIK_Q8UTtsTsYvsouMlXN4zeQ4Jup4GWEymuHFopO6nY5gdkJMKsEwtF011hpHijg/s1600/mind+and+body.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcoGVs9AW-nuOO6KWJaa4ROmf90Gy9t4sJKilKmxtISOK_b7qBs3CSVSC0plNDHgFHK_PVcacsgwIK_Q8UTtsTsYvsouMlXN4zeQ4Jup4GWEymuHFopO6nY5gdkJMKsEwtF011hpHijg/s1600/mind+and+body.jpg" /></a>Every moment, that passed, was blowing life out of this wild passion. Though the same battle been fought infinite times in the past, still the passion is helpless against this cohort of mind and body; thus<br />
the results are always surprisingly different. It is due to this interplay and at the hour when passion <br />
has been rendered soft, due to exposure to flimsy visions called dreams, that passion cedes many a times. So what? Not this day!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC0cDYRbFnnN8ME4dCImiABuOULUhv8EgfVXtshOasK5k1jy_quj1fd9S5n0dQq5Ujb48mVTRHuy6ZakCmi1Q8HcVYerbvR1E12U6735m7z4guj3CeEZLCPQn917h55et6R9C-d9D1YU/s1600/autopilot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHC0cDYRbFnnN8ME4dCImiABuOULUhv8EgfVXtshOasK5k1jy_quj1fd9S5n0dQq5Ujb48mVTRHuy6ZakCmi1Q8HcVYerbvR1E12U6735m7z4guj3CeEZLCPQn917h55et6R9C-d9D1YU/s1600/autopilot.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a><br />
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A jolt came out from nowhere and put me on auto-pilot mode for next half a minute. It seems, the <br />
memory of an earlier victory came gushing into my veins and have clinched the victory again. 6:00 AM...and I'm up and in control now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPB2CxJ502qTGem9JF0f9LEVEuU0uuPZuPOBJ9-rI95A10mF44cjavKBMPYD2yD1COOElmcF-U90oNVgwqmfGBtr4-zAOwy2RtBKz-zQ9t07A6Fb74rdKtlFfuqjVNJmwgJxNR00PG0U/s1600/woke+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPB2CxJ502qTGem9JF0f9LEVEuU0uuPZuPOBJ9-rI95A10mF44cjavKBMPYD2yD1COOElmcF-U90oNVgwqmfGBtr4-zAOwy2RtBKz-zQ9t07A6Fb74rdKtlFfuqjVNJmwgJxNR00PG0U/s1600/woke+up.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-86539677353927855992015-04-06T10:44:00.001-07:002015-04-07T03:58:34.598-07:00At times, Mind is a villain of supreme kind <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmrHAbkzl1nRiiROCabNmswkou-F5HlYqWdCDdzSL0F3ywC5GqT93hVORr3jiBj4FddRu8Q5vl6tV7wvSLB8ERDvsW6uelGx9LRwqyONfiJ508cF-NEJhEMt7JIfPqsyAfK7zpmNjSxQ/s1600/question+in+thoughts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmrHAbkzl1nRiiROCabNmswkou-F5HlYqWdCDdzSL0F3ywC5GqT93hVORr3jiBj4FddRu8Q5vl6tV7wvSLB8ERDvsW6uelGx9LRwqyONfiJ508cF-NEJhEMt7JIfPqsyAfK7zpmNjSxQ/s1600/question+in+thoughts.jpg" height="195" width="200" /></a>Why benevolence is in dearth on this earth? This is the subject I find intriguing, most of the times. So, I felt doing some self-quizzing and come up with the reason myself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8Qe-44QC8UlbVJNYcvbpIY91x99U1Tkz-vDTTz0kbCXfXsMbpZP05iZxwkzP0g7BrrXwr5qbHkI9gdEJYbsjTrYmeXNiwpPM-11zAsB1aU4pMyhwP0_Xa3ZofJo5Vq7GzT9Lw6eOQ44/s1600/quid+pro+pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs8Qe-44QC8UlbVJNYcvbpIY91x99U1Tkz-vDTTz0kbCXfXsMbpZP05iZxwkzP0g7BrrXwr5qbHkI9gdEJYbsjTrYmeXNiwpPM-11zAsB1aU4pMyhwP0_Xa3ZofJo5Vq7GzT9Lw6eOQ44/s1600/quid+pro+pro.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>I understand the concept of quid pro pro, and in sync with the same, people (in general) may not exchange a kind gesture if not have received one. What is more surprising when this premise is violated - I mean, why one needs to be mean to someone when not given the same favour in the first place?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6ucZ9uta4qqFHkfmB1XWdeNgVMBIKCyWK14QOkjAhc_wXfUrLGezs2B0JAWzeUIKMOft6MDipWzLKORaoKVuMa3YXwG2MKqpUpjmpdQ4dOjgV09G9zqaYu2x5xTIjh7teeuYUPCh864/s1600/man+running+to+goal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6ucZ9uta4qqFHkfmB1XWdeNgVMBIKCyWK14QOkjAhc_wXfUrLGezs2B0JAWzeUIKMOft6MDipWzLKORaoKVuMa3YXwG2MKqpUpjmpdQ4dOjgV09G9zqaYu2x5xTIjh7teeuYUPCh864/s1600/man+running+to+goal.jpg" /></a>Is it because a certain mind works in a particular way, in a certain situation, at a certain time, refined and biased by factors unique to that mind? Let's go to an example straightaway. Let's assume goal A is what mind 1 wants to materialize. While doing so, it will run through motley of options it has. Suppose, option M looks like a path to realize goal A; and option M comes after several trials with previously available options. Now, substantially into this path (which could be another person with a mind, 2, of own), mind 1 feels infeasibility to realize goal A via M. At this juncture all the hell breaks lose, when mind 1 lofts out option M (for this case, consider to be a person with mind 2) like a use-and-throw object. Mind 2 must have its own logic to align with mind 1 realize goal A, having sensed no alarm, in the beginning, of the later-to-be conspicuously frivolous manner of mind 1's attachment. Just like a running locomotive's bogie has its inertia, that needs to be calmed down to zero before detaching from another <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmC0KJ1MLyJW1NdL-ac6vzgakzV-eWtEXW_gIbFXk2nn-zefu4itaCl570oKq8Ysw7kcNovPjg2VG3k-blP_8Id-FKwv1zs0lI8uUwTxN8RkCIKU6Edpzc2U1KF8Mr5TSzM_S7OtIeAo/s1600/locomotive+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmC0KJ1MLyJW1NdL-ac6vzgakzV-eWtEXW_gIbFXk2nn-zefu4itaCl570oKq8Ysw7kcNovPjg2VG3k-blP_8Id-FKwv1zs0lI8uUwTxN8RkCIKU6Edpzc2U1KF8Mr5TSzM_S7OtIeAo/s1600/locomotive+1.jpg" /></a></div>
without any fuss (whatsoever), it is even more important to follow the same ritual in case of attached minds. Just because mind 1 saw a safe escape route for itself, in an ongoing journey together, doesn't mean a harmony is ensured. Disregarding such a fact always induces unwarranted negativity in the form of pain, suffering, trauma etc.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrmVj-b-Mff9OWcFZrpLuydf7FpxjjeOPDTBmyHjX65eQiG1SJtDKBjunOEEjnpu_5v_lHFR3rDlX7rpgVORsMXemXyiD_SpAFEYSNpYTZq3CxkQva0ZTEoj6CTFdWGN1kE97WM_VOGs/s1600/newton+3rd+law.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrmVj-b-Mff9OWcFZrpLuydf7FpxjjeOPDTBmyHjX65eQiG1SJtDKBjunOEEjnpu_5v_lHFR3rDlX7rpgVORsMXemXyiD_SpAFEYSNpYTZq3CxkQva0ZTEoj6CTFdWGN1kE97WM_VOGs/s1600/newton+3rd+law.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>More importantly, 3rd law of dynamics (of any kind), is valid in all the spheres of living as well as non-living world. This, a mind may not comprehend because the re-bound effect may take its own time; a mind, sensing the well being of its own periphery, may not foresee the same.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdC-JDdhpMA-CfpkZOa9Q3SgM0fg6nuhaqBiS6PbtB0IUR3skbuQgi7tmzc9FPei4VMw-0s_rxz7TsxiIBB_1PZ4oq9Fi819wBlFHpocpWcAEphysHeQpHDUbTY1Evxcd4ddx81BrrO0/s1600/karma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdC-JDdhpMA-CfpkZOa9Q3SgM0fg6nuhaqBiS6PbtB0IUR3skbuQgi7tmzc9FPei4VMw-0s_rxz7TsxiIBB_1PZ4oq9Fi819wBlFHpocpWcAEphysHeQpHDUbTY1Evxcd4ddx81BrrO0/s1600/karma.jpg" height="200" width="199" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr813FbevRkL9XfHht43ZO9vPu88b2FpKEUJeF-KNSLgubOFyr-sJOu8QgebUPttI6uxAJNyQ0XU4nZBjr5p77anuhsI3IjSFSWvmAwLU3KhWt01ggaYCjXe3crzVDMq0i3hkdPazIOI/s1600/taste+of+own+med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr813FbevRkL9XfHht43ZO9vPu88b2FpKEUJeF-KNSLgubOFyr-sJOu8QgebUPttI6uxAJNyQ0XU4nZBjr5p77anuhsI3IjSFSWvmAwLU3KhWt01ggaYCjXe3crzVDMq0i3hkdPazIOI/s1600/taste+of+own+med.jpg" height="163" width="200" /></a>Now, mind tries and emulates logical/legal agreement based transactions in emotions-based decisions. This always creates a legitimate escape route - cunning minds use this and unassuming minds fall for such a trap. Because it is legitimate, majority of us are forced to accept it as right and this becomes a practice among the lot. It is only when a pinching happens due to own accepted rule, does an individual understands the lacuna of comparing emotions with logical/legal agreements.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_y2B5fcqHhm9yc6VHf6vWtX-hyUfFMMmvN6HaxwWbMuC6mBjv_l-ZLI-aXE1hwFWlwoRlAaUBWZEdJNdtgqpTHzF6B-Gxf44XFAcoc0jhG1fbsdrcis2vBb2eZQI5u4qPNs27fX7bkDU/s1600/harmony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_y2B5fcqHhm9yc6VHf6vWtX-hyUfFMMmvN6HaxwWbMuC6mBjv_l-ZLI-aXE1hwFWlwoRlAaUBWZEdJNdtgqpTHzF6B-Gxf44XFAcoc0jhG1fbsdrcis2vBb2eZQI5u4qPNs27fX7bkDU/s1600/harmony.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>If a mind is sincere in its conduct, it will never let the situation fall into an emotional entropy; it will always give right signals at the right times about its intensions and will never take a decision in a snap to cause emotional disharmony; it will choose the best path for the 2 or many, rather than 1; it will never weave traps; it will not subscribe supremacy of legitimacy, but come clean by itself. These are just some of the courtesies that we overlook while digging emotionally deep, only to cut and bleed our way around/out. We tend to forget the energy and effort it took to create that way, while lynching it; and we forget that, while doing so, we close <br />
our own access to this way forever - a way that was meant to be the forebear of benevolence, trust and emotional harmony.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-76315016810276746982015-04-04T08:37:00.001-07:002015-04-09T23:02:12.076-07:00Celebrating life of a moral fool!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBNk0hl8Konabas3YSsiIRP3Xt5mf4cWeNmBOJmcY3bkOwAD5fhspc_Uho9spGc4lmWjQhJXtQnrGxqT1E9M_PcJ9QmdgYPV3bb5iCHJGdA4dEQCWqISJAN5Fb_vsMl6ARxhayr2fq28/s1600/old+and+shanty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBNk0hl8Konabas3YSsiIRP3Xt5mf4cWeNmBOJmcY3bkOwAD5fhspc_Uho9spGc4lmWjQhJXtQnrGxqT1E9M_PcJ9QmdgYPV3bb5iCHJGdA4dEQCWqISJAN5Fb_vsMl6ARxhayr2fq28/s1600/old+and+shanty.jpg" height="171" width="200" /></a>He was there again. 10 years back, when Riya had gone to her old society of childhood, he was labouring through the many errands of locals to earn his livelihood. "Madan uncle", as fondly called by the kids from society, was a septuagenarian and had seen some good and some not-so-good (as he would like to call) days in this South Bombay locality since he came there with his family at the age of 6. A distant sister still calls him back to his ancestral village in Kanpur, but Madan prefers being an old immovable ass. Madan, who was now 75 and staying in a dilapidated shanty, that can be best described as the bare essential fabric on a woman.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNf1_4gwZijBcoXVO_cZ5SgtSmNHvPioufh9O1XtVWqffU0gX2qiaVJlDqUKAKUC08xB3DQjcuuEaM6BW6dXVTNKF42Zo_c1U9AOZEB1LdDDd56aA_SRj3nmoztR9iXPnXIyTOwoWOZmw/s1600/slum+and+buildings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNf1_4gwZijBcoXVO_cZ5SgtSmNHvPioufh9O1XtVWqffU0gX2qiaVJlDqUKAKUC08xB3DQjcuuEaM6BW6dXVTNKF42Zo_c1U9AOZEB1LdDDd56aA_SRj3nmoztR9iXPnXIyTOwoWOZmw/s1600/slum+and+buildings.jpg" height="206" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQVQf7If3a1GI0QSLBhuUnA8i6cpksOfaiicfs8SgQoyh7r3kUJF59l-tYrLsZ4OuRqhmsg5IkqjPw0D7F2cIt9My4kcdt9lVzqp4PYLzKAzYXoYdFejl1jI-zpF_H08ILWut_DT89gY/s1600/no+food.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYQVQf7If3a1GI0QSLBhuUnA8i6cpksOfaiicfs8SgQoyh7r3kUJF59l-tYrLsZ4OuRqhmsg5IkqjPw0D7F2cIt9My4kcdt9lVzqp4PYLzKAzYXoYdFejl1jI-zpF_H08ILWut_DT89gY/s1600/no+food.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><br />
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Not so long before Riya's last visit, Madan used to work as a full time house servant for an old Parsi couple at Colaba. After their death, Madan couldn't find a regular work and had to stay starved many a days. Still Madan was so engrossed with this city that it felt him just like a step mother, who will surely melt her heart someday for him. No one, but only death, could move him out of this city.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jp5nWKXRjldBr096GsfEBYnTPGD0gpnvk3cxvrPM6qcQsZzkF5WyEhUSoBqF072t9qgWqbnomkceJDI1RRFui_sAOcG5uWE6WAWAS1V9t6bChCzKtP3RTohh1lns9hCH8tj_V9axJmU/s1600/The_Little_Boy_and_the_Old_Man_by_Crispy_Gypsy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jp5nWKXRjldBr096GsfEBYnTPGD0gpnvk3cxvrPM6qcQsZzkF5WyEhUSoBqF072t9qgWqbnomkceJDI1RRFui_sAOcG5uWE6WAWAS1V9t6bChCzKtP3RTohh1lns9hCH8tj_V9axJmU/s1600/The_Little_Boy_and_the_Old_Man_by_Crispy_Gypsy.jpg" height="137" width="200" /></a>Riya's parents used to stay in the same locality where Madan worked as a house servant; Madan, having never married and no child of his own, was always close to kids. He could never bear the sight of a wailing child and would even, instantly, pose as a joker to bring smile to the kid. And their numerous, innocently played out, pranks with a tired and sleeping Madan uncle would never make him mad at them. Perhaps he tried finding his own childhood in them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-mRI-YWs1-wVfGhEIeTzvXS9FDQtpfH0YKEAienwXZNnbcRCPPPWh12poXAx8ilSiJCCGAq64pEqtpPnpzey3ujRvrzxrDe1nRhyWpNDFmqv2IoHasMbakAN_FaLcos4f_uct3uvxHg/s1600/crowd+n+lonely.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-mRI-YWs1-wVfGhEIeTzvXS9FDQtpfH0YKEAienwXZNnbcRCPPPWh12poXAx8ilSiJCCGAq64pEqtpPnpzey3ujRvrzxrDe1nRhyWpNDFmqv2IoHasMbakAN_FaLcos4f_uct3uvxHg/s1600/crowd+n+lonely.jpg" /></a>Spring of this year's Riya visit was the last one for Madan. He succumbed to his deteriorating health and a long stint of suffering due to loneliness in this most densely populated place on earth. However, it was not always the same about Madan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsvD5sm7f4nw5i_QwNDImIgsCDNr9D3nVTkKsGx_dz-iuDIrXv-50f-oW191eXuLU6N4FbLKd1XuVJZdhibqqVVJS7O4LaZEQFjYPoRyviYgLR2CPFq56Nazhj3hALAHDgzXS1k2gFAc/s1600/immoral.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsvD5sm7f4nw5i_QwNDImIgsCDNr9D3nVTkKsGx_dz-iuDIrXv-50f-oW191eXuLU6N4FbLKd1XuVJZdhibqqVVJS7O4LaZEQFjYPoRyviYgLR2CPFq56Nazhj3hALAHDgzXS1k2gFAc/s1600/immoral.png" height="175" width="200" /></a>Madan had completed his Masters in Law in the 60s and was one of the most eligible bachelors in the locality in his hey days. His 2 elder siblings could never match Madan's educational qualification but were more practical than Madan. They settled early in their lives and Madan kept himself engaged in search of true meaning of life. "You have to play by the rules of the game, if you want to stick to this game". "You need to think about yourself first and then others". "There is nothing moral or immoral; all the conscious guilt is just a point of reference in your psyche which means nothing to the world". Madan would receive such remarks from his peers and friends, but an unsettling force would never make his core agree with them. Little did he know then that he will be left alone & much behind, while following his heart. During this course of time, Madan had a few shots at matrimonial life; alas, they never materialized due to what fate had in store for Madan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_gDQBzk4384atJArVLFHw_AF-erhmj7yz7OATdy5KKMduR27LVIHxCvYigJFunJG1Z7klpJ_vakOpYq0N-UD4FerYHv1L1tfC3R9uQPE94c8dBKOJnLAH1cdNw4Pv4CMAQHo5EsD1jc/s1600/hung.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_gDQBzk4384atJArVLFHw_AF-erhmj7yz7OATdy5KKMduR27LVIHxCvYigJFunJG1Z7klpJ_vakOpYq0N-UD4FerYHv1L1tfC3R9uQPE94c8dBKOJnLAH1cdNw4Pv4CMAQHo5EsD1jc/s1600/hung.jpg" height="200" width="143" /></a>Madan practiced law for some years, from his late 20s till mid 30s. The last case, that he lost, while defending an innocent (which was later found out, but was too late), withdrew Madan's trust on legal system completely. Madan usually took cases for the under-privileged ones whom no attorneys would take up. This case had the defendant, who used to be a daily-wage labourer, accused of murdering his own wife in cold blood. The court, due to insufficient proofs and all cooked-up testimonials against Raman, the defendant, ordered death sentence - to be hung till dead. Raman loved his wife more than his life. If only his chawl wouldn't be at the place where an industrialist wanted to set-up a sprawling apartment for more affluent class.<br />
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Raman was the only one in his locality to oppose the rehabilitation offer, another chawl, in the other part of the city; Raman was never comfortable to leave his parental place, where his childhood was spent. There were often boisterous arguments with his wife, as reported by neighbours during the investigation process, on this subject; but never did the fights go to a physical level. Raman was also very hard working and sincere. This had earn him good reputation among many quarters, but not good enough to prove his innocence - which appealed Madan, who took up the case to only lose at the end of it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPbDSL85P7Gt2yIkqGlbSETgSFx5KTJEKHG8cSIbTI_7v17r7u6m0t0aA75EJdLAI2v8yeBTei_FigPzwa3SjyJCx5o5JgB5dpwjgC7Vp7VULUHsfJVTheF0pyrpeBEOPM_wKdK8_ucQ/s1600/riches+to+rags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPbDSL85P7Gt2yIkqGlbSETgSFx5KTJEKHG8cSIbTI_7v17r7u6m0t0aA75EJdLAI2v8yeBTei_FigPzwa3SjyJCx5o5JgB5dpwjgC7Vp7VULUHsfJVTheF0pyrpeBEOPM_wKdK8_ucQ/s1600/riches+to+rags.jpg" height="137" width="200" /></a>After that case, Madan pulled himself out of his legal profession. He started earning his livelihood like most migrant commoners would do in this city - engaging as daily labourer at construction sites, carrying out menial errands for households. For some reasons, known best to himself, he could never leave the city. Madan's folks were not happy of his decisions and Madan knew deep inside that he is making his parents suffer due to his own miseries; however, his heart just didn't know how to compromise on moral issues. His parents had already gone back to their ancestral village, before Madan had left his legal profession, and lived there for the rest of their lives.<br />
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Any vestige of raw innocence, around, would draw Madan's attention - be it in those innocent pranks by local kids or that smile on the face of a tired labourer who still knows how to share. Stray dogs were his favourite, with whom he would share a large pie of his day's earnings; in return, they would give him back the most genteel affection by listening to him for hours in his lonely nights. Madan didn't die a coward's death, but just gave up the life that effuses nothing but inhumanity. May be not the best decision in an able man's life, but he had no regrets, whatsoever, when he died. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-71742935302207365932015-04-02T01:42:00.000-07:002015-04-02T04:05:26.353-07:00Liaisoning with the difficult<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When you speak or act, a connection between your inner and outer faculties is established. This connection is like a switch, that flips itself at the "force" of determination, logic, instinct or plain whim. This force is at times a foster child, nurtured by those who cares or focus on it, and not necessarily the main actor who is reason behind this child's birth.<br />
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A very funny example - you are walking to an important meeting and suddenly a crow flies over you and shoots a stigmatic load on your clothes. You may not be the reason this crow flies there, but the conscious (inner faculty) you carry that connects to your absurdity (outer faculty) in that meeting should clarify what I mean. That being said, I am equally convinced about various such connects where this force affects the perpetrator too. Haven't your heard that they are killing crows? Now, that's not funny.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzfiDK8Z5DIvbYU4JzNZ2j2jleSeQ7uCu_h1i-jWFGkCXRBgFojVR5q1lFo5Zks6njdRCRF20E054R7fOvUUc1KKGNqfLYZWxD6kjogrI1fhLSQOD_kQwISm22NomQBai7KLdN4FiANY/s1600/Plate23-mind-out-of-control.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzfiDK8Z5DIvbYU4JzNZ2j2jleSeQ7uCu_h1i-jWFGkCXRBgFojVR5q1lFo5Zks6njdRCRF20E054R7fOvUUc1KKGNqfLYZWxD6kjogrI1fhLSQOD_kQwISm22NomQBai7KLdN4FiANY/s1600/Plate23-mind-out-of-control.jpg" height="226" width="320" /></a>Dynamics of this flipping switch is not as complex as it sounds. Just that the control of this switch is at times beyond we humans' power, we are awed and then thawed when we realize later to switch being flipped. It becomes just an action and reaction sequence, where our senses are mere passive participants. Also, logic always comes next to instincts and hence it is at times late; obviously, sulking and feeling remorse are also sequential reactions and can be controlled if one really wishes to.<br />
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So, it is all about controlling the force that connects these inner and outer faculties. It is not that easy as the inertia it carries is very strong and is made of years of experience and usage style. As the logical mind pushes us towards the easier route which wanes our taming power, we just end up regretting on an outcome. To be a tamer of such a powerful force is a child's play if one harbours a child-like attitude...if you understand what I mean.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQdTwU4Sa8Shrwj0dCoQFC_4q8Dspv7WOj8U7QKjhXxS-Myb5iNKY4bwLmQR5zt0vyaE0L0NQN8Yr0WytaFj23q-nUsuwJ3i2opjLSMG3zm8Oc3KzYfO8rTm1LBHuCaF8vbIDAwezPwI/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQdTwU4Sa8Shrwj0dCoQFC_4q8Dspv7WOj8U7QKjhXxS-Myb5iNKY4bwLmQR5zt0vyaE0L0NQN8Yr0WytaFj23q-nUsuwJ3i2opjLSMG3zm8Oc3KzYfO8rTm1LBHuCaF8vbIDAwezPwI/s1600/baby.jpg" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-88725683155321822552015-03-30T10:21:00.001-07:002015-04-02T04:04:14.137-07:00Trapped by the body, released by the death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why humans have emotions? Why do they have those pensive phases which they can't control? What are those things that don't let humans achieve their fullest potentials?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLL77IjfaDETiDXIgM1OtgI_sfeIgo0-NrySAz8A4D-_TedOiqnrpL2rGQgAL9GZoZcaTKll4-5BS73y_UnOdo8RpaO1ZNsEqJDJnIe54RSdiVUW-3K-5SM7CHscuXWuh5FOzxIuQkkw/s1600/emoticons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLL77IjfaDETiDXIgM1OtgI_sfeIgo0-NrySAz8A4D-_TedOiqnrpL2rGQgAL9GZoZcaTKll4-5BS73y_UnOdo8RpaO1ZNsEqJDJnIe54RSdiVUW-3K-5SM7CHscuXWuh5FOzxIuQkkw/s1600/emoticons.jpg" height="95" width="200" /></a><br />
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Mind is like a sedative drug. It lets you slip in that perennial dependency of a reference point that decides how to react on the outcomes. Never do you suspect the reference point which caused, say glaucoma, to you; rather we end up cursing the outcome (glaucoma) and forget the real culprit. This is a vicious cycle, more so, because of the complexity of nexus between mind and the body. I am not disregarding the fact that such complexities exist elsewhere than humans; however, in humans, it has reached to a level that is far beyond comprehension for an ordinary person.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2vdFefVAHtdJQKb74kJLuaAKURJU3U7bnYS4RT-3gmkdXwZ38OwmxMtmD_D__D94VzHJwl7aYST-EnMucyA4pcKUC4FVx05BbCllozTUG1NNv0cPGwXcrVRZCC1h-6fbXg-NX4skTBk/s1600/complex+mind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA2vdFefVAHtdJQKb74kJLuaAKURJU3U7bnYS4RT-3gmkdXwZ38OwmxMtmD_D__D94VzHJwl7aYST-EnMucyA4pcKUC4FVx05BbCllozTUG1NNv0cPGwXcrVRZCC1h-6fbXg-NX4skTBk/s1600/complex+mind.jpg" /></a><br />
Not a student of human psychology, but indeed as an observer, I see that most of us are trapped in that body which is driven by emotions and controlled by the limitations that our mind has perceived for ourselves. Fear is one such emotion that has been either culpable of throwing you out of orbit of greatness or instigated to do harm to others - knowingly or unknowingly.<br />
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There is no scale to measure the amount of emotions in exactness, let alone regulate the emotions. Theory of relativity, is something which, is very prevalent in this world of emotions; for some, an outburst is just an expression of inner-self and for another it could be reason enough to close all the ties. Hence, another danger - impacts are usually different and hence the perpetrator would take effort & time in coming terms to what went wrong for the other person. Now, again due to relativity, such effort and time taken vary and hence all the chaos in the world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO21l4sBwcziUQbjHqzRhxuCZ5utIQb1sqb5ndtxlg2vlH85ndkxnJXzvVe0yJHZRju4yxqmubUhjT6JPGj3p4iXuyWAiTznqV8AzXGwYQCAg4pc70h4J8oH7Qcav3YOo1BfYoDYrouI/s1600/robo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxO21l4sBwcziUQbjHqzRhxuCZ5utIQb1sqb5ndtxlg2vlH85ndkxnJXzvVe0yJHZRju4yxqmubUhjT6JPGj3p4iXuyWAiTznqV8AzXGwYQCAg4pc70h4J8oH7Qcav3YOo1BfYoDYrouI/s1600/robo.jpg" /></a>So, do emotions have nothing in favour of their reason to exist? Let's see. Can you imagine a world of Terminator like robots? I think emotions are the cranky vestige of the last good thing that embodied mankind, a passage from gods to remind humans of their limits, a medium to serve oneself with hell or heaven while breathing on earth. The last breathe, though, takes all of it with itself to the "blackhole" where emotions meet their grave - only life has the strength enough to effect a reverse pull.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmj4ek5hjBDIU1RWiGZfoT8X9q5MpLp5gK9wNlIy6t4lgmohv_j5_0rzg3ZXWr4Gud08NZOhVA9H_5o6lfaJXnMs84-sSOlsX24p0_P4ScTaMR90dsKYLKodKizUEe1XrjAPxmklAsKQ/s1600/water+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmj4ek5hjBDIU1RWiGZfoT8X9q5MpLp5gK9wNlIy6t4lgmohv_j5_0rzg3ZXWr4Gud08NZOhVA9H_5o6lfaJXnMs84-sSOlsX24p0_P4ScTaMR90dsKYLKodKizUEe1XrjAPxmklAsKQ/s1600/water+hand.jpg" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-74479513971079640162015-03-28T03:11:00.001-07:002015-04-02T04:13:38.182-07:00Destiny's Child<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is a mental gig that goes like this - how much is sufficient? How much of food is enough? How much of love is enough? How much of laundry on body is enough? How much of, off course, money is enough? How much of madness is enough (is enough)? How much of sacrifice is still not enough? How much of education is usually enough to link you with sanity? I believe the answer to this question is NE (never enough).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv04I_7p0CHLzT_jauU7vmPBisblyKsP8UaUlQd42cYZer9vb5STepO-PJSagjcaaM5z5wieA3Hq1rGnrhkT7AkrpxpvN9PZXq3OVGJoPVGAielIy3kUjqvJzZNkmVRtjq24xykrPDeWA/s1600/sufficient+mental+gig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv04I_7p0CHLzT_jauU7vmPBisblyKsP8UaUlQd42cYZer9vb5STepO-PJSagjcaaM5z5wieA3Hq1rGnrhkT7AkrpxpvN9PZXq3OVGJoPVGAielIy3kUjqvJzZNkmVRtjq24xykrPDeWA/s1600/sufficient+mental+gig.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROH5RqSVSKoVDerC_1oVHakOPGXUO51gDvYDKcs9XHnekn0HQiRTFYJ5yGvv2gsdidfxOQmiGv40ysMJnmMKhah_p-t6BfdnGhPca-pyYaqVKvNxCNX906w_W5QU-wbfT8mvcF84ZUW0/s1600/doesn't%2Bmatter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROH5RqSVSKoVDerC_1oVHakOPGXUO51gDvYDKcs9XHnekn0HQiRTFYJ5yGvv2gsdidfxOQmiGv40ysMJnmMKhah_p-t6BfdnGhPca-pyYaqVKvNxCNX906w_W5QU-wbfT8mvcF84ZUW0/s1600/doesn't%2Bmatter.jpg" /></a>We keep ourselves so focussed on questions of sufficiency that we always lurk for their answers even though we know it doesn't really matter most of the time. Do you think stray dogs eat to fullness everyday? Still, they perform their acts to the fullest when they have to. Similarly a daily wage worker - can you ensure that every hard labouring fibre in his body consumes enough amount of protein? Even if you can't, he still works like lovers in labour with his ploughs on the field. Can you produce enough intel to, 1st gauge and then, create enough love for your soulmate? It is impertinent as well as NE. Education can, maybe, give you jobs, but can't ensure sanity all the time, or can it?<br />
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I remember an interesting anecdote here. A few years back, I was training for riding horses and I wasn't able to get better of my fear while riding them, though every class would seem to pile up my confidence level. One day, they changed the horse and that same day I fell for the first time from a horse' back. I realized that it doesn't take number of hunky-dory classes but just one fall to overcome fear of riding these beautiful beasts. Many good riders can claim never having taken the fall; practically, that doesn't mean that no. of classes are tantamount to being a good rider. At the end of day, there is no set rule to decide the fate all the times. You may end up being on a completely different planet (courtesy, Interstellar), even though you have charted out an algorithm for finding the route back to home. You are taken to where you are supposed to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6KAfYcv8tJVYoOukky9tKKkpfEGf-SLMgdK9i_SzCNWFfoHp29bHXGz1a3d6BWBPd8yLs6d4qWJPGdfqAWiNNivIwokyDNKL0K-Ve9mZfi9CXQXvZEL-DjA3ad-EIV_rg1jhL1h3w8E/s1600/serendipity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin6KAfYcv8tJVYoOukky9tKKkpfEGf-SLMgdK9i_SzCNWFfoHp29bHXGz1a3d6BWBPd8yLs6d4qWJPGdfqAWiNNivIwokyDNKL0K-Ve9mZfi9CXQXvZEL-DjA3ad-EIV_rg1jhL1h3w8E/s1600/serendipity.jpg" /></a><br />
Similarly, love doesn't have a single route to salvage the fire burning in both (or one's) heart(s). There is no definitive way to a happy love life. And, neither your instincts can decide. All I am saying is there is certainly a strong and untamed factor that decides the outcomes in our lives, and we call it as "destiny".<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-80715527464054391742015-03-27T21:22:00.000-07:002015-04-02T04:26:58.450-07:00Scarred for life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qx_TIoSonaExOgDIvVrVpxz0yMHAZOeT5z6acTazG5VIkVucwrNpOh48SA0JF3LdDRTzOpddncANuAiNs3DqYm60fIxV8AeEB1aeM2BNp0zUHJg-EroZTYRQYld5YTPtW2_HHHaYAgc/s1600/scarface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qx_TIoSonaExOgDIvVrVpxz0yMHAZOeT5z6acTazG5VIkVucwrNpOh48SA0JF3LdDRTzOpddncANuAiNs3DqYm60fIxV8AeEB1aeM2BNp0zUHJg-EroZTYRQYld5YTPtW2_HHHaYAgc/s1600/scarface.jpg" /></a>Some deep wounds of past die hard and leave a lasting scar
behind. Scarface! That movie had lead character, played by my favourite Al
Pacino, doomed from very beginning when he had to leave Cuba and come to States
as a refugee. The home country was not liveable anymore and hence hapless people
left it in search of a safer place. No one saw it coming that it is not going
to be easier in the new place as well, at least for the lead character’s family
and leading to a sad end. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVuDtEeBDMH8CT9Q9FrnnoFI0EqMUKN3h_qaywZe1bsbIeyQP68qeMIsFX5SZapARglaTDZa1nKpm3iMdLxbchesnwBO1PALHOVmXuGgMhYOS4dKt9wOICWFb0sfvkkQGc73C8QjWzec/s1600/migrant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVuDtEeBDMH8CT9Q9FrnnoFI0EqMUKN3h_qaywZe1bsbIeyQP68qeMIsFX5SZapARglaTDZa1nKpm3iMdLxbchesnwBO1PALHOVmXuGgMhYOS4dKt9wOICWFb0sfvkkQGc73C8QjWzec/s1600/migrant.jpg" /></a>Stating the above as my opening lines shouldn't be construed
as a negative for people moving to newer place for a better life. It is the
native place that I have mixed reactions towards. Did it fail to deliver or its
ex-dweller didn't try enough to make that place liveable? It is like an egg and
chicken situation. There is something, even more, vital involved here - the aftermath.
A migrant always, either forced or by oneself, accepts the vagaries of a new
place. This becomes a routine and mostly passed to the next generation. When a
first generation person conducts oneself in a new place, the adjustments are
too much to follow. Like the first time a person makes way through a crowded
lane, knowing that he never till this time did it in his life and assuming he
is already in his late 20s or early 30s. Also, the intimidation of being alone
and unknown amongst a crowd gives a chilling to his spine, similar to a dying
roadside dog, attended by no one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyVcfl8b1px8IXLnFYejd0ygFj71cGatGuTrBUwBz4HgAUbO9RlXuIEKTaGr_ZaSronW34kyXSPdRPyekTipHRZFRwNMbdc00JzK97BvYN3XA-ZLyP-Ogh8X4UY_YBjBpoB544kjcpnc/s1600/cuba+migration+no+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCyVcfl8b1px8IXLnFYejd0ygFj71cGatGuTrBUwBz4HgAUbO9RlXuIEKTaGr_ZaSronW34kyXSPdRPyekTipHRZFRwNMbdc00JzK97BvYN3XA-ZLyP-Ogh8X4UY_YBjBpoB544kjcpnc/s1600/cuba+migration+no+love.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a>Why people leave each other? Why people leave some place and advent to another, and not trying enough in their original place? What attracts people in each other in 1st encounter to be completely quelled down in subsequent ones? Why no amount of love is sufficient to hold back the ones you want to? When migration is justified with rendering equilibrium in population of a place, I do understand; just can't assimilate when it is to justify the insufficiency of opportunities. If you don't have enough population at a place, the opportunities will lead to their gradual extermination as well. That apparent dearth of true love at a place and the illusive greatness at another - now, this looks like a strong reason behind any immigration that has happened since the inception of mankind.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQULmMIipK4176eGdxcGyWKjrUe_KArdplgNhyphenhypheniepAJUvaKvVJVhgF7In_mPvZBb9xOL7WusnPuRBu5Q25z_UZqjL6waPyLoseYXH35P6TzSofMLwvXQoOKGeCH-MrQopCsvKDOarMsm4/s1600/land+of+opportunity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQULmMIipK4176eGdxcGyWKjrUe_KArdplgNhyphenhypheniepAJUvaKvVJVhgF7In_mPvZBb9xOL7WusnPuRBu5Q25z_UZqjL6waPyLoseYXH35P6TzSofMLwvXQoOKGeCH-MrQopCsvKDOarMsm4/s1600/land+of+opportunity.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16765043846682625952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6835659627202386841.post-70945461132118915362015-03-26T10:27:00.002-07:002015-04-09T23:34:59.916-07:00Recovering from a trauma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXI-tuqK62OSHk0H5pX3b-JIlBLnWzHN0IfCz6RbeLTYTcdKletIDKriZmv0X5h_DnO2SVjy9KoTKQ-E2hW7P3-P_X5IQ1p7FD_ZN3zLYh1_VcrqFul3HYDp96HhO43i_064Hc4iKA9ZY/s1600/broken+heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXI-tuqK62OSHk0H5pX3b-JIlBLnWzHN0IfCz6RbeLTYTcdKletIDKriZmv0X5h_DnO2SVjy9KoTKQ-E2hW7P3-P_X5IQ1p7FD_ZN3zLYh1_VcrqFul3HYDp96HhO43i_064Hc4iKA9ZY/s1600/broken+heart.jpg" /></a>My heart was again exploding. In the middle of night, I felt
like my heart sinking in the unknowns. Any amount of thinking was leading me to
a doomed state of mind. My thoughts taking me back to the nice times before it
was called off. Sincerely, I had inkling before it happened, but never thought
it will affect me like this. From my earlier experiences, I tried to mellow
down to usurp the negativity from other side; I was least aware that dealing
with a cold heart is like meeting your extreme nightmare in person. Due to
constant onslaught from other areas in life, my tears have long been dried -
so, weeping wasn't an option to plummet my utter sadness. Mind, by now, had
become a servant to feelings and was playing through all sort of suicidal
tendencies. May be unavailability of resources and my vertigo didn't let my
mind completely surrender to my feelings. </div>
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Surrounded by this mental abduction, I could hardly sleep
that night. Next day, I was still under the shroud of this unending trauma and
I could hardly connect with the world around. So deeply engrossed I was to my
mental illness that I slept for the longest duration in a day without any
physical illness. Thanks to my local guardians, I could eat in-between, which I
did with my brain failing to recognize the taste of the food. Some pep talk
from a good friend also sprinkled momentary booster to my spirit. The feeling
was still not dying away and I still felt like “God, why me?”. To take control
of the situation, the following day, I went to a local bar and sloshed myself
with intoxicated drinks. This was followed by some more drinks at a friend’s
place. I just wished that intoxication to flush out my grey feelings once and
for all. Sure – I felt lighter, and in 3 days had the best sleep. Mind is
stronger than any external factor, when it wants to, and unfortunately so when
it shouldn't; it brought back those suspended feelings back into the driver
seat. This time, though, I gave a friendly cry to the mind and tried getting
the better of my psyche. I had to; otherwise, I would have gone into an
addiction mode for intoxication, which my logical mind never found suitable. </div>
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I messaged this person, with a last attempt to explain this sudden and insincere conduct, and as expected, received an abusing response. Boom! My sadness and my soft core converted into deep angst
and a rough textured core, heated by this cold, cruel and unfair conduct. Must
be in my guts that, whenever I see fairness in deficit and presented in an ugly
manner, I always go against it, no matter who and what. This trick had my wits
swung back into action and flung a message back to show my anger and humility
at the same time. I tried to bury my utter sadness with that one stroke; however, anger is no one's friend, not even Lord Shiva's.<br />
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Though I was angry, but my mind reeled back in those lovely moments of retrospection, again and again. The feeling of losing a loved one was swirling over my mind. Upon this, I consulted one of my teachers, after a week of retrospection and introspection. Meditation and deep inhale/exhale. Yoga is alive for "yugas" (ages) for no small reason. It is for reader to make out the meaning from it.</div>
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I don’t know if you would worth about sharing this incident with you all – I just wanted you to understand the effort it takes to come out of the reeling and killing effects of a broken road, that was illusive and misleading from the beginning - like a mirage. I also take a vow to keep my story-like paragraph writing alive by sharing my experiences from everyday’s life on a regular frequency. Nice!<br />
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